


Having "The Talk"

by EllieRose101



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieRose101/pseuds/EllieRose101
Summary: Glory has been defeated. Dawn is safe. No one died. At least, no one on the Scooby’s team, anyway. Buffy should be celebrating, or at least sleeping. The battle of her life is behind her and the prospect of a bliss-filled, demon-free summer is ahead of her, but she can’t rest yet; not while one last thing remains unresolved. Because, hey, maybe she wants a demon in her summer after all.





	Having "The Talk"

**Author's Note:**

> Did anyone else notice Spike’s normally entirely slicked back curls were a little unruly (in a ‘sex hair’ kind of way) from the episode ‘Spiral’ right up to ‘The Gift’? I always wondered why and my wondering inspired this story.

One Shot

After looking in on Dawn, who was still sleeping, Buffy descended her stairs quietly, wondering if Spike would be awake. She found him on the couch, spread out right where she’d left him, except now with both a cup of cocoa and a beer. Was it weird that she kind of liked that he felt comfortable enough to make himself at home?

He looked up as she stopped in the doorway and she glanced at his torn jeans. “You okay?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Just a broken bone or two. I’ll mend.”

Buffy nodded, her eyes skating elsewhere around the room. She had begun to say, “Look, about what happened–” at the very same time Spike said, “We should probably talk.”

They stopped, stared, then both broke into uneasy laughter that should probably have been even more uneasy than it was, given the circumstances.

Once the urge to giggle died down, Buffy watched Spike for a second to make sure he wasn’t going to say anything else. He seemed to be doing the same but gave a little ‘go first’ gesture.

Buffy’s shoulders shook as she sighed and just put it out there: “I’m sorry.”

Spike rocked back on his heels as he stood up to face her, wincing briefly at the movement. “That’s where this is going, is it?” He shook his head as he patted down his pockets for cigarettes and came up empty. “Should have known better than to hope.”

“What?” Buffy stammered, genuinely confused by the reaction. She tried and failed to hold back a snap in her voice as she said, “And here I thought you’d be touched by an actual apology. It’s not like I give them often.”

“No,” he allowed. “Not to me.”

Buffy threw up her hands. “Now you’re criticising me for not apologising when I just did and you didn’t accept it?”

Spike got real quiet as he said, “I don’t get to be mad about being your dirty little secret? You know how I feel about you, but all I am in your eyes is a regret.”

“Whoa!” Buffy backed away. How did they get from casual to fighting in like three seconds? This was just so typically them. “That is not what I said!”

He looked up at her, eyes suspicious. “What else does ‘I’m sorry’ mean?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “It means I’m sorry, you idiot. I was worried that you might feel…” she lowered her voice, “… _used_ , I guess. I didn’t want you to feel that.”

Spike was entirely silent for an unbearable minute before she dared to look at him again. When she did, he asked, his voice more than a little terrified, “What did you want me to feel?”

“I...” something in her gut squirmed, but she resisted the urge to run away. “I thought, maybe, it would be the start of things.”

Spike stepped closer, his movements measured. “ _Things?_ ”

Buffy swallowed at his new place inside her personal space. “Yeah, well, contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually have sex on just a whim without caring about the person.”

From the way the light on his face changed, she could tell his brain had caught on the word ‘care’ and was busy processing it. What he said out loud was, “I thought I was just a meaningless shag in the back of a Winnebago to take your mind off all the impending doom.”

Buffy blushed, because it had partly been that too. He said it so casually, but she could tell he was being completely serious for once. She owed him the truth, she decided. The full, unvarnished version.

“It was a distraction,” she agreed. “And a good one, too, but not meaningless.”

“Yeah?” he asked, the question a whisper against the skin at her neck.

She shivered but didn’t retreat any further. “Spike, I don’t regret sleeping with you. What you did for me – what you gave up for me…“ she shook her head, finding it hard to put into words. He was looking intently at her lips and she had to ignore the distraction to get anything out at all.

“The thing is, you said that I could never love you, and maybe even two weeks ago I would have agreed with you, but at the time when you said it, after we’d done it, and after everything else you’d done for me and Dawn. I already knew.”

His eyes were wide as he leaned back to look at her fully, his breath held.

“How could you think I regretted what we did?” she continued. “I only regret that our first time wasn’t better. You deserved better than that, and you didn’t know how I felt. That’s why I wanted to apologise.”

“You... _feel_?” Spike questioned, delicately, as if not trusting the word on his lips.

Buffy allowed herself a wry smile. “Yes, Spike, I feel.” And before he could clarify, “for me?” she leaned forward and kissed him.

“I love you, Spike.”

He swept her up in his arms, alternating between staring at her, dumbstruck, laughing, and kissing her back.

Once Buffy was on her feet again, she said, “I thought, maybe... you might want to do it again?” She bit her lip. “If you’re not too injured, that is.”

He grinned like a Cheshire cat, pushing his tongue suggestively behind his teeth, but before he could finish the leer and let her know that the “only bone that mattered” was in fine working order or whatever, she pulled him close again.

The theatrics died away in an instant, leaving him holding her tightly; like a reverent lover would. “I love you, Buffy,” he said against her hair.

“I love you too,” she said, feeling energised with how strong it was already; how certain it all was.

They went upstairs.

The repeat performance, though somewhat muted in case it woke anyone up, would have earned him a standing ovation except for said noise issue and the fact that Buffy couldn’t get her legs to work, so resulted in a standing arrangement for many other performances — twice nightly and sometimes a matinee.

It was the best summer Buffy ever had, but nothing compared to what came after.


End file.
